


forget-me-not

by owlsshadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Courting the Sawamura, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, KuroDai Weekend 2018, M/M, Memory Loss, Poor Yacchan, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsshadows/pseuds/owlsshadows
Summary: At first, Kuroo thinks it is a cold. It is not until he starts coughing up petals that he knows, he is in trouble.





	1. hanahaki

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello, welcome to this roller caster of a fic.  
> Written for Kurodai Weekend 2018 for the prompt "hanahaki". This is my first hanahaki fic and i took inspiration from fanlore's description of it and decided to add onto it with a few little details. I hope you like it!

At first, Kuroo thinks it is a cold.

He does not often get sick – in the entirety of high school, he remembers missing school only once, when he ate a cup of obviously spoiled yogurt out of spite and to negate Yaku.  But the morning after they return to Tokyo from their practice match with Karasuno, he wakes with an irritated throat and a constant urge to cough.

In two days, he develops a fever and the doctor orders him to stay at home. His father makes him porridge. Kenma lends him one of his older games Kuroo once mentioned he liked. Kuroo feels pampered, cozying up in his blankets. He thinks that this cold is probably a sign from some higher entity; in a roundabout way he finds this is his well-deserved resting period.

By the second afternoon spends at home, Kuroo realizes that he has never had so much free time to spend – he was always doing something, whether it's keeping busy with volleyball, doing homework, preparing for the annual science quiz competitions (this year, he swore he would win over Yaku), or playing games with Kenma.

He has never had so much time to spend alone, confined in between the four walls of his room, left to his own devices to find entertainment. The few issues of shounen jump he has on hand has never felt so short, and his phone never felt so silent with no one to write in the group chat, no new entries on social media sites.

The world’s pace suddenly feels too slow for him; while everyone lives their life, he sits in his bed, back against the wall of pillows he piled up behind him.

He scrolls his apps thoughtlessly, wishing for something interesting to happen, something to draw his attention, something to do, to read, to enjoy. He is the type to be terrible when bored, and the world is not being helpful. He taps on his contacts, scrolling down as to find someone he can bug with a phone call. While he realizes shortly that most of his friends are at either volleyball practice or in cram school, his fingers stop by a new entry added to the directory.

Sawamura Daichi, it says.

A sudden fit of coughs shakes Kuroo, dropping his phone into his lap.

 _Too much free time,_ he muses, sinking deeper under the blankets so only his ears peek out, _lets way to too many thoughts_. His mind wanders, back onto the shorter, sturdily built volleyball captain, whose bone crushing handshake and hostile grin sent not-all-that-unpleasant chills down Kuroo’s spine. The mere memory of Sawamura’s intense gaze has his blood boiling. His hand wanders down scraping at the hem of his boxers; his skin feels achingly hot against his fingers. Sawamura’s words echo in his ears, way too close and way too real – and Kuroo tugs, raspy sigh leaving his lips.

It takes a week or so for the first petal to spring out of his nose with a sneeze. He watches it in awe, floating through the air. He has no idea what it is, no idea how it is possible. He reaches out for it curiously, only for it to slip away last moment, and to land on the edge of the bed.

That is when Kuroo’s eyes meet Kenma’s, and he registers the horror on the face of his childhood friend. That is when as if he was in trance before, he regains his senses, feeling the blood gushing out if his nose.

In two weeks, even breathing hurts; his words get barbed by sudden coughing fits and petals fall from his lips instead.

His thoughts often fly out to Sawamura, imagining what the other captain could be doing in those moments when Kuroo curls in on his pain.

He gets hospitalized when his father catches him embracing the toilet bowl as if it was his most prized possession, vomiting bloody petals.

He always thought hanahaki was some overblown media sensation; a cheap attempt to make people feel compassionate and to awaken the deep-hidden romantic in the audience. But his cold blooms roses in his insides, and the thorns of his feelings cut deep into his skin. He changes his views on hanahaki. It is no fancy illness made up for entertainment. It is real, severe, and it hurts. His opinion on the media, however, does not change.

There is nothing romantic in dying.

Three weeks after the practice match with Karasuno, Kuroo is scheduled for surgery. The doctor is optimistic. He calls it lucky that Kuroo ended up in the hospital in the early stages of hanahaki. If he were to cough up entire flowers, Kuroo gets informed, it would be too late for medical intervention.

If he undergoes it now, they can remove the petals and end his suffering without any grave consequences. The doctor tells him that at his age, he will recover rapidly. Missing the Interhigh, but good as old by the time of the Spring Tournament.

It sounds promising.

They can stop him feel the pain.

The price he has to pay seems almost negligible – except for one. He is not bothered by the one more week he will have to spend in the hospital, and he can accept that he should be taking it easy for a few more until his stitches all heal.

But when the pain stops, the feelings stop too.

Three weeks into his disease, Kuroo sits up in his hospital bed in the middle of the night, once even his father and Kenma were forced out of the room by the motherly nurse who tends to Kuroo, and he unlocks his phone. Ignoring the messages of his teammates – feeling thankful, but not powerful enough to stay awake to read them all – he scrolls to Sawamura’s name in the contacts.

There is no one else. No one who could be the cause of this.

Kuroo sighs, sharp pain cutting into his lungs. Losing his feelings for Sawamura feels like losing his anchor on stormy sea. But the storm, he feels, is also due to Sawamura. Once the petals are removed – along with his feelings for Karasuno’s captain – he will be free.

He taps down on the name, and a number flashes on the screen. In the darkness that surrounds him, Kuroo watches the shining screen with the remorse of a follower saying goodbye to his idol. He enters the menu to delete the number, to forget the connection together with the face, the voice, the person who infected him with love.

It is a stupid move, he himself finds it to be so – since even if he forgets the feelings he has for Sawamura Daichi, he will not forget the captain of Karasuno, and given the history and the relationship between their schools, it is very unlikely that he will never meet him again – but he can’t, for the sake of his own health, bear with the thought that he will keep looking at Sawamura’s name on his phone, and not remember the feelings he once had.

He coughs, hands wavering over the buttons, pressing down on “Edit” instead of “Delete”. _As if his sickness wanted him to keep that damn contact_ , he snorts, thinking about the absurdity of the situation.

In the spur of the moment, he renames Karasuno’s captain in his phone, and throws the device back to the nightstand. He coughs again, throat hoarse and chest heaving, eyes shutting firm. He feels the taste of blood in his mouth, cursing under his breath.

 

*

 

It has been a nasty cold, one with some serious complications, and Kuroo swears to never sit right under the air conditioning of their team bus again. It got him into hospital, he had to undergo surgery, and for the most part he had such high fever he can barely remember it.

So he sits in the far back, where it is the warmest, and bears with the sweating rather than to be caught in the cruel grasp of the air conditioning ever again.

Yaku laughs at his resolve, fanning him a volleyball magazine from two rows ahead – way too far to have any effect apart from the excessive laughter of Lev.

“Laugh all you want,” Kuroo replies, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not catching another cold.”

From the corner of his eyes, Kuroo sees Kenma shuffle in his seat, and an involuntary smile flashes across his lips. Kenma seemed antsy since early morning – Kuroo’s best guess is, meeting the fiery shrimp of Karasuno makes him excited.

 

 _Shrimpy is not with the team_ , Kuroo notices immediately as the tired, yawning members of Karasuno leave their bus one-by-one, staggering towards the gym.

“Hey,” he leans over to Karasuno’s captain. “Actually, aren’t we missing some people?”

“Well,” Sawamura says, reaching to the back of his head. “We had mid-terms last week.”

Kuroo watches the captain’s face as he talks. Sawamura seems tired – his lids fall down onto his big brown eyes heavily, as if it was a struggle to keep them open, and he stifles a yawn between two words.

Kuroo has vague memories of Karasuno’s captain; he seemed to be the straightforward kind, however didn’t leave too deep of an impression in Kuroo.

 Now, walking by his side, Kuroo can’t help but notice all the many small details he missed during their first practice match – how Sawamura’s thick brows curve upwards when he says something he feels apologetic for, how his nose wrinkles in disapproval when he mentions the first years failing their tests, or how his lips curve into a good-mannered smile even as he shares bad news.

“So the wicked duo is taking some supplementary exams right now?” Kuroo asks, walking to the gym by Sawamura’s side.

“Yeah. But, well…” Sawamura starts, startled by Yamamoto’s outcry of joy. Kuroo looks over to his second year wing spiker, who falls onto his knees before Karasuno’s two managers.

Kuroo leaves the side of Karasuno’s captain, ready to collect his idiot of a teammate, but his intervention is not needed; Karasuno’s Shimizu handles the situation easily.

He turns back to Sawamura to continue their talk, but the other Karasuno third years seem to have caught up to him. There is a strange shadow of regret washing over him, as if he missed a chance to… to do what?

Ignoring the bizarre feeling, Kuroo sinks his hands in his pockets.

“Alright,” he says. “When you’re all ready, come to the gym. The other guys are already there.”

 

As the days pass by, Karasuno earns more and more penalties – yet, their captain commands them into their flying falls with the same dignity as he shakes his opponent’s hand after a won set.

Kuroo feels intrigued. There is something unfathomable drawing his attention to Sawamura Daichi. As if the short, sturdy captain had a mass denser than anything else around him, he had Kuroo gravitate around him without any effort. The problem in the analogue Kuroo can’t figure out in those three short, curt days of the training camp, is whether Sawamura is the Sun or a black hole. Either way, he can’t help his eyes away from Sawamura for long.

The end of each day, he lays down on his futon with an aching chest – his surgery scar itches, as it does during strong weather fronts or before the rain. Except, the skies keep clear all weekend, sun scorching hot and not a cloud to be spotted.

 

*

 

Sawamura texts him. The message is short, straightforward, simple. Just like its sender.

Kuroo finds it interesting at first how the Karasuno captain is saved as “🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸” on his phone as he has no recollection of ever saving his number, let alone under such a nickname. Still, he keeps it, and snorts every time “🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸” sends him something.

“Captain Handsome?” Kenma asks once on the train, looking up from his game for a second.

“Ah… just Sawamura,” Kuroo replies.

“Sawamura,” Kenma hums indifferently.

“I don’t remember when I saved it like this, but it’s funny,” Kuroo continues.

Kenma’s fingers freeze over the buttons of his handheld game, “GAME OVER” flashing up on the screen shortly after.

“You don’t remember?” he asks, face turning towards Kuroo entirely, a sign so rare and so bizarre for such a trivial conversation that it sends a shiver down Kuroo’s spine. “Care to come over for a talk, Kuro?” Kenma asks, voice small and careful.

The scar tissue tinges, as if Kuroo’s stiches were just freshly removed. His bad premonition is only fed more as Kenma pockets his game.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” he asks.

The glance Kenma sends to him is as telltale as a reply.

 

Later, once Kenma made Kuroo sit on the couch and brought him a glass of juice – and done other equally un-Kenma-ish acts, like asked if Kuroo was hungry or if he was comfortable – the tension feels just too high for Kuroo to bear it any longer. He reaches out for Kenma before his childhood friend could flee to the kitchen again, grabbing his arm and keeping him at bay.

“Out with it,” Kuroo says. “Now.”

Kenma glances from wall to wall, looking everywhere, but ignoring Kuroo blanantly.

“What are your thoughts on Karasuno’s captain?” he finally asks, sinking down to the couch beside Kuroo.

“Sawamura?” Kuroo asks back, frowning. “I don’t know what this is about, but I ensure you that I don’t plan anything vile against him and that nickname on my phone is not part of some elaborate bullying…”

“Your thoughts.”

“He didn’t leave much of an impression when we first met, but over the last practice weekend we spent some time together and he seems to be a nice guy.”

“Are you sure he didn’t leave much of an impression?” Kenma asks back.

“Nah, honestly I barely remembered him before…”

“Kuroo, you talked about him,” Kenma cuts in, reaching for Kuroo’s hands. “You called him things like scheming and insufferable. You plotted that you would sneak something slimey in his hand next time.”

“Sneak something slimey in his hand?!” Kuroo asks, stupefied.

“Yeah. You wanted to stick boogers into his palm on your next handshake.”

“When?”

“A month ago? Two? After our first practice match.”

“Kenma, you might confuse me with someone, I didn’t even have a spare thought about Sawamura before…”

“You did,” Kenma cuts in again, his hands crushing Kuroo’s now. “That’s why I asked you to come over.”

When Kenma looks up, he looks straight into Kuroo’s eyes, and Kuroo has a hard time remembering when was the last time that Kenma stared at him so openly and intensely.

He wants to refute Kenma’s words, but his friend’s sharp look keeps him quiet.

“I wanted to tell you since the beginning, but your dad didn’t think it was a clever idea. Knowing you… his reasoning was sound,” Kenma says. “Knowing you, if you knew of what happened, you would just run headfirst into trouble again. But Kuroo, even if you don’t know a thing, your eyes still follow Sawamura everywhere, and you text him with a weird nickname and flowers…”

“Kenma, slow down, I can’t follow.”

Kenma huffs, breathing heavy as if he has been running, and he releases Kuroo’s hands to point right in the middle of Kuroo’s chest.

“What you had was not a cold. It was hanahaki. You had terrible coughing fits, internal bleeding, you…”

“No, I had a cold.”

“You opted for surgery, Kuroo. They removed the petals, and as a side effect, you lost the feelings causing the disease as well.”

“Kenma, look. I apologize, but I can hardly believe this,” Kuroo says, grabbing Kenma’s hand and pushing it away from his chest. “Do I look like someone to suffer from unrequited love?”

“Yes.”

“Then who do you think… wait, no. No. No, that can’t be.”

Realization hits him with the delicacy of a wrecking ball and the speed of the Shinkansen. Him having barely no memories of Sawamura from before their latest practice together in Tokyo, the number he does not remember saving, the nickname he could not understand… _the flowers in the nickname_.

“Are you sure?” Kuroo asks.

“I was there when you sneezed out your first petal through your nose.”

“Did I?”

“I don’t have any physical evidence. Dying, you were not really in the mood for selfies, and I’m not that weirdo who takes photos of his friend’s vomit, not even if it’s just a huge mess of bloody petals.”

“Well that’s… good to know.”

“But you can look at your medical records if you want. I can go with you to the hospital, but we can also ask your father if…”

“No,” Kuroo replies, hushing his friend. “I believe you.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“So, will you stop messaging Sawamura?”

“Why?”

“Relapses are very rare,” Kenma replies, worry clear on his face. “But not impossible.”

“You mean…”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

 

*

 

Kenma made him swear on his most prized possessions, and threatened him to curse him with eternal virginity if Kuroo would do anything that risks a relapse – such as, let’s say, searching eagerly the company of Karasuno’s captain, teasing him, bugging him, talking with him more than necessary, or tapping his shoulder casually as he passes by.

But as the summer camp rolls in two weeks later, and he walks across the courtyard of Shinzen loud from cicadas, Kuroo catches himself enthralled in a story Karasuno’s captain tells him.

The members of Karasuno seem all in disarray for the duration of the camp, earning themselves more runs up the hill behind the school than any of the other schools in the entire history of their training camps. Yet, Sawamura does not seem to worry, not even when Kuroo comes to him one day to apologize for stirring up Tsukishima.

Kuroo likes the stability Sawamura radiates. He likes Sawamura’s steady voice. He finds himself sensing Sawamura’s presence from across the gym a few times.

They play on different courts, against different adversaries, but he feels the moment Sawamura takes a side step to receive a ball; his focus is not torn, rather heightened by the sheer power Sawamura’s existence makes him feel.

Knowing that he has fell for Karasuno’s captain once, Kuroo is also curious – what could have been the catch, that one trait that drew the line between casual interest and love?

They did not know each other for long; one practice match is enough for nothing but a few impressions to make.

Kuroo knows of himself that he is not the love-at-first-sight type, so he finds it extremely curious.

For Sawamura to manage to ignite such profound feelings that could send him to hospital…

“Kuroo,” he hears his name, and he turns to face Bokuto with a second of delay to his reaction.

“Yeah?”

“A piece of meat dropped out of your mouth. Do you mind if I take it, or do you find it too much?”

“It’s definitely too much, Bo,” he replies, picking up his barbecue meat again, placing it back to his mouth, chewing on it.

Meat has little taste to it when his eyes feast on Karasuno’s captain.

“This is bad, Bo.”

“What? Did you drop it into something yucky? Spit it out, it’s fine, no one is looking…”

“Not the meat, Bo. I think I might be sick again.”

“Not again, Kuroo, you can’t do this with me, you already skipped the Interhigh!”

“I know right? But I can’t do anything. I think I’m programmed to be like this.”

“Naaah, I don’t think so,” Bokuto replies, swiping an entire row of freshly grilled meat into his mouth. “You can always do something.”

“Eat more vitamins?” Konoha pops up in between them to steal a piece of meat.

“There are 2 things you can do. Either take preventive measures like vitamins, yeah, or, if you think you have already gotten sick again, do steps to slow down or fight the thing. You can’t get that sick to end up in hospital again, you hear me?” Bokuto says.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re really dumb or a genius in disguise,” Konoha comments, stalking back to Komi’s side.

“Oy, Akinori! Rude!” Bokuto shouts, turning towards his teammates and stomping off.

Kuroo, left alone, watches the bickering Fukurodani players for a while, before his attention is drawn yet again to Sawamura – trying to feed Tsukishima and Kenma.

Taking vitamins won’t save him from hanahaki.

And not talking to Sawamura is impossible.

“Bo, I’m pretty sure you’re a genius,” Kuroo mumbles, placing his plate down and grabbing some food to join Karasuno’s forcefully caring captain.

If he can’t prevent or avoid the reappearance of hanahaki, Kuroo is left with one option – he finds a permanent cure to it. According to medical evidence available today, there is only one way to cure hanahaki.

_If the affections of the patient were to be requited…_

Kuroo forces an onigiri to Kenma’s hand, stealing and pocketing his game, then turns to Tsukishima to do the same.

“You have to eat,” he says, flashing a grin towards Sawamura.

Sawamura smiles back. Oh, he has no idea, just how well Kuroo will woo him yet.


	2. control (jealousy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing that he can't do a thing to prevent a relapse, Kuroo decides to take matters to his hands and pay Sawamura a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is unedited and rushed, and doesn't make sense anyway. just sayin')
> 
> enjoy~

“Are you crazy or what?” Kenma asks, his voice full of worry. He does not seem to be… fond of Kuroo’s solution.

“On the contrary,” Kuroo replies, folding a shirt haphazardly and stuffing it into his backpack. “I have finally come to my senses.”

“Kuro. It’s dangerous. You could have a relapse if you spent too much time around Sawamura, and there’s no guarantee that he will fall in love with you…”

“He will. I have a plan.”

“Kuro you never even dated.”

“And so?”

“You have no experience about how romance works! Or dating. Or flirting.”

“I bet Sawamura has none either.”

“That shouldn’t make you feel so confident in your plan.”

“Look, Kenma, I’ve read shoujo manga.”

“Real life is nothing like shoujo manga.”

“I’ve always been better at dating games than you. I will manage.”

“Kuro. Can you please take this seriously.”

“I’m serious,” Kuroo says, stuffing an additional sweater into his backpack. He finishes up packing by squeezing his bad of toiletries in the already bursting bag. “I have everything under control.”

As to support his words, he pulls on the strings at the mouth of his backpack, causing the bag of toiletries to open and spill its contents to the floor.

“You have no self-control,” Kenma replies. “I can’t let you go unsupervised.”

“So what? Coming along?”

“I should go,” Kenma mumbles. The pained expression on his face is picture perfect and meme-worthy. If Kuroo was Fukunaga,he would already snap a shot – except he is himself and as such, his phone lays somewhere in the bottom of his backpack.

“Shrimpy-chan will be out of this world from happiness if he sees you,” he says instead, being the supportive friend he is.

“Shouyou?” Kenma asks, confused at first. Watching Kenma, Kuroo sees the exact moment the little cogs in Kenma’s brain connect the ‘weekend trip in Miyagi’ with ‘the possibility of meeting Hinata’. Kenma takes a deep breath, straightens up on the bed, and his eyes go sparkly, as they do whenever he buys a new game.

“I will wait for you to pack your bags,” Kuroo replies.

 

Going to Miyagi is all part of Kuroo’s wondrous and flawless plan to make Sawamura Daichi fall for him.

The plan is easy – he goes there, cheers for Karasuno, bribes the gods to get Karasuno through the preliminaries and win over Shiratorizawa, and finally, he flirts Sawamura off his feet once the matches are over.

Following the plan, however, has some difficulties. Buying train tickets is simple, finding a place to stay at Sendai proves to be a little harder. In the end, they manage to secure an empty dormitory room at nowhere other than Shiratorizawa, thanks to an online friend of Kenma’s.

The first problem arises when this very online friend – who goes by the user dragon-slayer-bangs, and whose bangs really could slay, Kuroo finds out upon their first meeting – just happens to be the setter of Shiratorizawa, and when he finds out that Kenma – and Kuroo – also play volleyball, he invites them to a friendly practice match.

The second problem turns out to be that the Shiratorizawa players seem to be unaware of the concept of a friendly practice match, and before he could say as much as hello, Kuroo finds himself lined up against Ushijima Wakatoshi by the net. It takes one ball smashed down bare millimeters away from his face for Kuroo to realise, he really will need to bribe the gods if he wants Karasuno to win over Shiratorizawa. If not for his own health and ambitious plans in romance, then to make old coach Nekomata happy and surprise him with a “battle of the trash heap”.

“No,” Kenma says after the game, as Kuroo introduces him his brand new plan to sneak laxatives in the breakfast of the members of Shiratorizawa, if it ever comes to a Karasuno-Shiratorizawa playoff. “Absolutely not.”

“But,” Kuroo tries to reason, “I bet Tsukki’s arms will fall off if he tries to block Ushijima.”

“Mine would’ve fallen too.”

“I saw you blatantly avoiding his spikes.”

“You can’t blame me. Shirabu said _friendly practice match_ , not a death match.”

“Well, there is a good chance this is what Shrimpy-chan and the others will have to face. If they ever make it to the finals, that is.”

“I believe in Shouyou,” Kenma nods.

“Even after you spent an entire match jumping away from the way of Ushijima’s spikes?”

“Will you stop calling me out like this? Oh, and also, please forget about poisoning the team,” Kenma says, voice almost offended, as he marches off to the showers.

Kuroo looks after him, pensive, before a new idea hits him.

 

*

 

On the first day of the matches, Kuroo finds a good place to watch the matches from; close enough to see well, but not too close to be seen. Still, Kuroo sits down with his hoodie pulled in his face out of precaution.

“You know, this is quite counter-effective,” Kenma comments, taking the seat beside him. “He won’t see you so he won’t get any closer to fall in love with you. You on the other hand, willingly force yourself to watch him all day.”

“Shut up. I’m not ready yet,” Kuroo replies.

“Not ready for what?” Kenma raises a brow. “There’s nothing wrong with cheering for a friend.”

“Oh, now you talk big, but wait until _you_ will fall for someone and then you forget it and then you have to find out what did you love about the person in the first place!” Kuroo argues, squeezing the charm he bought at the shrine nearby the Shiratorizawa campus.

“You don’t even like Sawamura now, so why the love charm?” Kenma asks slightly disgusted.

“For good measure. Also, they ran out of victory charms.”

 

Kuroo regrets not sitting closer when Hinata jumps up to the wall of the gymnasium to return a stray ball.

“Spiderman!” he hears someone shouting, and the moment his eyes fall on Kenma he knows – his friend is even more mesmerized by Hinata than he was before.

They switch places in the break between sets, Kenma sitting right at the corner of Karasuno’s pirate-y looking black banner, Kuroo one seat behind, hood forgotten. Yachi-san, Karasuno’s first year manager makes a high-pitched squeal at their arrival, introducing them to some alumnus of Karasuno.

Karasuno has too little supporters for Kuroo’s taste – but it is not a bad sign at all, once he manages to make up his mind and actually start cheering, it will have all the more effect.

Now, he just has to muster up the courage. It feels as if he has forgotten his bravery back in Tokyo – and here he sits, right across a huge yellow banner that screams ‘valor and simplicity’ in his face. Even if Karasuno’s opponents do not really live up to their motto with their loud and cheerful act, that banner really is a thorn in Kuroo’s eyes, mocking him. Kuroo chews on his lips, frustrated, unable to raise his voice.

As the second set starts, Hinata appears by the net almost instantly, jumping in for one of those crazy quicks.

“Careful,” Kenma mutters under his breath right off the bat. As if he could predict the future, Kageyama makes a messy toss, and the ball flies high, way out of Shrimpy’s reach – only to be returned by Sawamura in some miraculous save.

“Wow! Those are some amazing reflexes!” Yachi-san comments, hands grabbing the railing in excitement.

“Actually, I think he was expecting that,” says the alumnus.

“Huh?” the manager turns his way curiously.

“They were out of play for a while in the first set due to Kageyama’s nosebleed,” Kenma starts, drawing both their attention, and wincing involuntary at being suddenly in the limelight. “They got overexcited to be able to play again.”

“Daichi-san, nice job covering their asses!” Kuroo hears Karasuno’s energetic libero, and can’t help but snort. Raising from his seat, Kuroo walks up alongside Yachi-san, hands landing on the rail. He is in the best spot now, watching Johzenji’s captain jumping in for a spike.

Sawamura’s receive is sharp, fast and precise. He returns it to the setter effortlessly, and Kageyama makes good use of his second chance to prove his genius.

“Good,” Kuroo laughs, and he lifts his hands to his lips to form a funnel, mimicking a loudspeaker. “Nice receive, Captain!” he shouts.

Sawamura lifts his head to the shout, looking all surprised when he spots Kuroo.

_He is cute._

A sharp pain jabs into Kuroo’s chest at the thought, but he disregards it, waving at Sawamura.

Now, he got the first two points of his plan right. He came, he cheered. He even bought a charm to bribe the gods. What is left, is for him to sweep Sawamura off his feet with his great charm.

 

*

 

“What a surprise, Kenma! I didn’t think you would come!” Hinata shouts.

“I didn’t think of coming…” Kenma mumbles in reply.

As the team regroups with Yachi-san and the alumnus quickly shakes hands with the coach before leaving, Kuroo finds himself in the swarm of sweaty crows. It feels strange, being fully dressed in civilian clothes while everyone else wears a volleyball jersey. It reminds Kuroo of the immediate weeks after his surgery, when he visited each and every practice of the team, but could not yet participate.

Kenma being dragged away almost immediately by Shrimpy, the Karasuno players talking among themselves, Kuroo finds himself alone. Suddenly he feels out of place, as a sore thumb that does not belong. Discouraged, he slows his steps, falling slightly behind, watching the team dressed in black march towards the changing rooms in unison.

“Kuroo.” A hand lands on his back. “You really surprised me back there.”

“Sawamura,” he replies, skin hot under all those layers of shirt and sweater and coat, as if Karasuno’s captain touch could reach through fabric, and all his body heat was focused in his palm. The reaction is absurd, excessive and disproportionate – and Kuroo is not in love, not just yet, but his scar tissue itches.

“What are you doing here in Miyagi?” Sawamura asks, voice warm and smile so very honest Kuroo can’t take his eyes off of him.

“I… uh.”

There, should come the flirt, the smolder, the charm – but all Kuroo has in his brain is radio silence, disturbed only by the fervent beating of his heart.

He glances around frantic in look for his impulse control, but Kenma is nowhere to be found – probably dragged all the way to the changing rooms – and the words fall from his lips before he could stop himself.

“I came to see you.”

“You could’ve sent me a text.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise?” Kuroo says.

“But then what would’ve you done if I got so surprised that I can no longer focus on volleyball?” Sawamura asks back. If it was anyone else but Sawamura, Kuroo would bet he is teasing. But because it is Sawamura, he knows it has no further meaning.

“I doubt I could cause such a strong reaction,” he laughs it off.

Sawamura’s hand slides off his back as Karasuno’s captain stops in front of the corridor leading to the changing rooms.

“I have to go now. We still have a meeting afterwards in school,” Sawamura says, and suddenly Kuroo feels jealous of the entirety of Karasuno to keep Sawamura so late into the evening. “But I would love to chat some more. Will you stay for the entire weekend?”

“We plan to. Kenma and I.”

“Great,” Sawamura smiles again.

_He is striking._

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Kuroo replies.

“See you tomorrow then,” Sawamura says, offering his hand for a handshake.

Kuroo takes it, holds it maybe even longer than he should – and Sawamura does not want to crush it this time…

… not like how he did after their first practice match.

Kuroo knows he is in trouble as he watches the broad back of Karasuno’s captain walking away, and he _remembers_ the first time he saw it.


	3. bodyguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Kuroo falls, back into love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... annnd this sums up the mid-birthday kurodai weekend! I am a few days late, maybe if I didn't decide on the midnight of the first day that I will make this a several chapter story including a prompt for each chapter... but it's done!^^
> 
> Note: for the chat conversation in the beginning of the chapter, I decided to go with the names they saved each other on their phones.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Hey Kuroo, I’m sorry for this afternoon, we were in a hurry.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: No problem.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: You are in the middle of a tournament after all.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: I'm sorry, really. I would've loved to talk to you more.

Kuroo's heart squeezes at this - but this is Sawamura, this is politeness, he tries to convince his heart - but this is Sawamura, and he is an honest kid, his heart manages to win the debate.

 [🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: When did you come?

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Until when will you stay?

The questions pop up rapidly one another, filling the room with an awkward cacophony of sounds.

Kuroo mutes his phone. Kenma is still in the bathroom - every room has its own bathroom, just how much more crazy elite can Shiratorizawa get - but even if he is, Kuroo doesn't want to alert him. Kenma is worried sick as it is, Kuroo does not want to worry him needless.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: We arrived yesterday

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: and plan to stay until the finals.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: So you better be there.

There is silence on the other end of the conversation. Sawamura has read the message, but the bubble of three dots do not pop up indicating that he would be writing a reply.

Panic propels Kuroo’s heart into an overdrive, and a series of questions attack his brain all at once. What if he said too much? What if Sawamura is superstitious, and is not willing to talk about the tournament at all? What if he finds Kuroo annoying, and only replies out of courtesy?

Kuroo chews on his lips in nervousness, scrolling back on their conversation to see if he has overstepped his boundaries, when a new message pops up.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: We will do our best

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Thank you for coming!

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: It was a pleasant surprise.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: So, was it a good idea?

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: A good one, definitely.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: It's good to have someone cheer for us.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: But how come you are here?

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: School is closed.

It is a lie, a half-hearted one in that, but Kuroo does not want to let Sawamura know that he skips school just to see him play; anything that can affect Sawamura’s performance in the tournament,he is not willing to disclose.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Still, why coming to see us? Don't you trust me that we will go to Nationals?

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: On the contrary. I came to witness your victory.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Kuroo?

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: hn.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: Thank you for coming. It makes me happy.

Kuroo looks up from the screen, face burning and heart throbbing frantically in his chest. As he types, he finds it hard to fight back the smile creeping on his lips.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: prove me right and win them all

When a new message from Sawamura arrives, Kuroo can’t stop a short giggle escaping his throat.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: That’s a bit far-fetched to agree on, but I’m determined to see you in Nationals.

[🌸 Captain Handsome 🌸]: See you and beat you.

[Kuroo Tetsurou]: ha. as if I’d let you.

He is undoubtedly falling for Sawamura again.

 

*

 

The next morning Kenma oversleeps, and they nearly miss the beginning of Karasuno’s first match for the day.

Wakutani Minami is a strong contender – according to Shirabu, who pops up next to them in the audience with the abruptness and stealth of a spy. He talks about the team’s short captain with a hint of disdain in his voice as he says:

“Nakashima compensates with technique for height. His specialties are wipes. He’s a talented player…” The family across them, big and loud, starts a cheer that echoes through the gym. Shirabu winces as he looks in their general direction, adding: “with an annoying fan base.”

Kenma hums along, eyes searching the court as they search a new map in a game; his face shines with expectation, and Kuroo could swear that he is not really listening to his gaming friend.

“So, this is like a battle between two little giants,” Kuroo says because he feels obliged to and because his eyes meet with Shirabu’s, and also, because the boy’s fringe reminds him of the leaning tower of Pisa.

“Do you mean Karasuno’s number 10?” Shirabu asks.

Kuroo wonders, as he nods in reply, whether the condescending tone is one that Shirabu practiced or it is the only one he has.

“I heard about him,” Shirabu says. “But didn’t see in action yet.”

“Shouyou is interesting,” Kenma says, watching the Karasuno first year warm up with those starry eyes Kuroo starts attributing to Shrimpy-chan, alone, rather than new games and Shrimpy-chan. It has the excitement and curiosity Kenma shows when he hears about a new game; no doubt, however, that it also has a hint of attraction in it.

“Hmpf,” Shirabu huffs agitatedly. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Kenma says, and as he looks up at his friend, Shirabu seems almost embarrassed, a hint of rose dusting his cheeks and ears.

“It’s starting,” Kuroo tells them, and he settles close to the riling so he doesn’t miss a move.

“I have to go now,” he hears Shirabu saying. “Just got a message from Eita-san that we are starting soon.”

“Good luck!” Kenma and Kuroo says in unison.

Shirabu waves goodbye, and skips down the stairs in a half-run. Kuroo turns his attention back on the court; finding Sawamura before anyone else, at this point, does not even surprise him.

The match is intense and high-paced, Wakutani’s captain being exactly how Shirabu described him and more; as a middle blocker, Kuroo can’t help but feel for the Karasuno members the captain uses as wipe. As the set goes on, the point gap between the teams never seems to grow above one or two, and with the pressure raising, the game entirely draws Kuroo in. He feels the players’ agitation, the adrenaline rushing in their veins, their determination and tenacity; the eager will to break away from the opponent is almost tangible in the air.

It is a long play, where either party is willing to let the ball drop, where the senses get blinded by the tension of the game – and Kuroo sees it before it actually happens, Tanaka reaching to save the ball and Sawamura jumping in.

“Careful!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, but he knows he can’t stop the collision from happening; still, the sound of Sawamura’s face crushing into Tanaka’s arm sends chills down his spine.

His throat goes dry, watching Sawamura lying on the floor, no words come out; even his breath gets caught in his lungs, waiting for Sawamura to move.

When Karasuno’s captain finally stands, a long sigh breaks from Kuroo’s lips, and between his teeth, a petal gets caught. He quickly glances at Kenma, and once he is sure that his friend did not see it, he chews on the petal and swallows it.

It tastes like iron.

Grip strengthening around the railing Kuroo bits down on his lip.

“I’m going down there,” he says, eyes following Sawamura and the coach out of the gym.

“To where?” Kenma looks up.

“The infirmary.”

“Kuro.”

“I know. I’ll be careful not to fall in love. I just want to make sure that Sawamura’s alright.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Hn.”

Kenma does not seem convinced, not in the least bit, but he does not stop Kuroo, who takes it as approval, and turns his back to the court. He runs down the stairs and across the main hall, stopping hesitantly by the corridor leading to the changing rooms.

He realizes he has no idea where the infirmary is.

Lucky for him, he spots Karasuno’s first year manager, who has also been sitting in the audience, running down the hall and towards him.

“Yachi-san!” Kuroo calls out to her without any hesitation.

The girl squeaks and jumps hearing her name, turning towards him with her whole body trembling.

“Kuroo-san,” she says relieved when she notices him.

“Are you going to the infirmary?” Kuroo asks.

“Yes.”

“Can I join?”

 

*

 

When following Yachi-san Kuroo enters the infirmary, he finds coach Ukai attending to Sawamura. Close up, Karasuno’s captain seems even worse off, with his slit lip bleeding heavily.

“Ah, you came,” Ukai comments when he sees Yachi. “Can you… wait, Kuroo too? What are you doing here?”

“I… I was watching the match,” Kuroo says, almost bashful. “When I saw Sawamura getting injured, I thought I will see if I can help.”

“There’s nothing much to help with,” Ukai replies. “The doc has already seen him and ruled out concussion, so for now we are only waiting for the bleeding to stop.”

Kuroo is relieved, but at the same time he deflates at the coach’s words. Nothing much to help with means that he has no place by Sawamura’s side; Kuroo thinks that, lacking any other reasons, he might be frowned upon if he insists to stick around.

He stifles a sigh, pain cutting into his lungs. The familiarity of the feeling stirs something inside him – his memories, hazy, return to him slowly. His newfound, budding feelings blend with those pre-existing; the stupid longing and fervent lust he had, then lost to the surgery.

It is the voice of Sawamura that drags him back to the present, sending a jolt down his spine.

“Stay,” Sawamura says, lowering the bloodied mess of tissues he was holding.

“I… yeah, alright,” Kuroo mumbles in reply.

“Good,” coach Ukai adds, and he stands from the seat beside Sawamura. “If everything’s fine, I will leave you in Kuroo and Yacchan’s hands. Is that alright with you, Sawamura?”

“Yes,” the boy replies. “Please go to the team.”

“On my way,” Ukai replies, walking past Kuroo to the door, where he turns back to add: “Rest for a while. And take the painkiller the doc gave if it’s not getting any better.”

“I will,” Sawamura replies, and Ukai leaves, closing the door behind him.

The second he leaves, a silence falls to the three people in the room, awkward, tense silence.

Yachi is visibly anxious; trying hard to find something she can occupy her hands, and most certainly her brain, with she walks up to the wall and takes a few paper towels from the dispenser, carrying them back to Sawamura in an almost-run. Nervous, she watches as Sawamura takes them, replacing his already bloodied tissues.

“Thanks.”

“If there’s anything else you need,” she asks, voice hushed and tone way too high, “a glass of water maybe? A glass of water would be good, right?”

Frantically, she turns to the tap, but Sawamura stops her with a hand holding her elbow.

“It’s fine, Hitoka-san. I already have a glass of water. In fact, I’m fine. I just lost a tooth, that’s all.”

“You lost a tooth!” Yachi flails.

“Yes, but it’s really fine. I don’t feel nauseous or dizzy, and I’m not disoriented. Once the bleeding stops, I will be back in the match.”

“He lost a tooth,” Yachi repeats, this time addressing her words to the wall.

Sawamura manages a smile, nudging the tiny manager into a chair. Kuroo is suddenly by their side, his brain not yet caught up, but his legs doing the work for him. He pulls the chair out for the manager, taking the other one – the one left by the coach – himself.

Sawamura sends him a glance, eyes piercing, reaching through all Kuroo’s defenses and touching his very core with a sting.

Kuroo is lost – in Sawamura’s eyes, in the sudden influx of memories and feelings, in the intricate game fate plays with him. He is lost – for words, for breath, for good.

His eyes wander down, from Sawamura’s handsomely face and chiseled jaw to those thighs he once lost his appreciation for. With his volleyball shorts running up, the sitting Sawamura looks hotter than it should be allowed.

“Sure you don’t mind me being here?” Kuroo asks, gulping down hard.

The bud in his throat does not budge.

“You wouldn’t want to make a person with a huge bruise on their face talk for no reason, would you?” Sawamura asks back with a glint of mischief in his beautiful warm brown eyes.

“I just… don’t want to be a bother,” Kuroo shrugs.

“You’re not a bother. On the contrary,” Sawamura says, leaning his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Thank you for being here. Thank you for coming.”

“I…”

“Hmm?”

“You’re supposed to be resting, Sawamura.”

“That’s what I am doing.”

“I see?” Kuroo says, voice pitching upwards. “Is my shoulder adequate as a pillow? Don’t you want to lie down?”

“No,” Sawamura hums. “Your shoulder is just great.”

Kuroo sends a panicked glance over to Yachi-san, but the girl does not meet his eyes. Sitting stiff and blushing vividly, she reminds Kuroo of frozen strawberries.

She is not at all helpful.

“Are you sure that everything’s fine?” Kuroo pries further, turning his eyes down onto the thick dark hair that he can see, Sawamura’s face buried in his shoulder. “You’ve just hit your head pretty hard…”

“No concussion,” Sawamura purrs in reply.

“I… you seem to be acting… unusual.”

In the silence that follows, Kuroo can clearly hear Yachi’s sharp inhale; Sawamura’s breathing, however, stays calm as ever.

“I might just feel more honest than usual,” Sawamura says after a while. “I am happy you see.”

“Happy? You just lost a tooth!”

“But I found something in exchange.” Sawamura rolls his head off Kuroo’s shoulder, glancing up at him with a smudge of blood by the side of his lips.

“Yeah?” Kuroo asks, breath stuck in his chest.

Sawamura, however, turns his attention towards Yachi. The girl jumps as their eyes meet, but her initial surprise is quickly replaced by determination.

“Hitoka-san,” Sawamura says. “Could you please get me from my bag?”

“Anything!” Yachi replies, albeit almost saluting with her hand. Kuroo can see the swing of her arm, only to stop abruptly mid-air, hands fiddling causelessly. She is eager to assist in whatever she can. She wants to be useful.

“There is a tube of sports cream in the side pocket of my bag. As gross as it sounds, I think it would help to apply a bit to my face…”

“Yes! I will bring it here asap!” the girl says, jumping up from her seat and running out of the room.

 “Thanks,” Sawamura says to the door left swung open, before he turns his attention back to Kuroo.

The intensity in his glare puts a stopper on Kuroo’s heart.

“What?” a short, breathless question leaves the middle blocker’s lips. He panics.

“Suga calls me oblivious, but first time in my life I had a hunch,” Sawamura starts. “It was nothing major. A look I caught a few times. I thought, I might be mistaken, shrugged it off, continued with practice.”

Kuroo remembers – how his eyes would inexplicably find Sawamura no matter how far he was from him during summer camp, how he had no idea what drew him towards Karasuno’s captain, but he had to look…

“Then a few days ago, I got a call.”

All blood freezes in Kuroo’s veins.

“You see, Hinata gives out my number to people without my permission it seems, but to tell you the truth, I was thankful for that call.” Sawamura reaches out, hooking his fingers around Kuroo’s. “I heard of your surgery, we all did, though Take-chan was discreet enough to say it was pneumonia… but I never knew it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t,” Kuroo says, gritting his teeth. “It’s scientifically proven that hanahaki is a genetical disease; you don’t catch it by falling in love, but the longing for someone induces it… it could’ve been anyone else. You don’t need to feel any guilt or remorse. I don’t know what Kenma told you, but...”

“But it was me,” Sawamura gives his fingers a little squeeze.

“Well. Yeah.”

“Is it still me?”

Kuroo dares a glance from Sawamura’s face to their entwined fingers and back. He sees something in those warm brown eyes, something he probably imagines, something that can’t be real, he can’t be that lucky, he has never been that lucky – it is hope.

“I…” Kuroo starts. He gulps, lost for words.

The knot, painful, tying his throat, dissolves; it leaves nothing but faint discomfort behind.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Thank goodness,” Sawamura says, smiling at him bashfully. With his free hand, he cups Kuroo’s face, thumb caressing his cheek. “You have a wonderful bodyguard; I hope you know that. If not for Kozume’s call, I would have never considered to take my feelings seriously and face you.”

“Your feelings?” Kuroo manages, and with his free hand he pinches his thigh to make sure he does not dream.

“It seems to be mutual this time,” Sawamura replies. A blush spreads across his face, leaving a pale patch of skin over his bruise.

Kuroo is immediately reminded that Sawamura is in fact injured, needing assistance and a good rest, and he jumps up to reach for a new set of paper towels.

“How is the bleeding?” he asks once back by Sawamura’s seat, kneeling before Karasuno’s captain and reaching for his bloodied lips carefully.

“Getting better,” Sawamura replies, throwing the used towels into the dustbin.

It is the moment Kuroo reaches out, tapping the towel softly over Sawamura’s lips that Yachi-san returns, exclaiming that she has found the cream loud and cheerful.


End file.
